Not Fighting Anymore

Not Fighting Anymore

Ronan's body stiffened, his face drawn tight.

The effects of the Detection Spell had not yet fully faded.

Through his white-glowing eyes, the Blood-Colored Tattoo Man before him stood out as glaringly conspicuous as a massive illuminated light bulb.

"High-Level... Apprentice."

Ronan forced out the words with difficulty. "Black robe."

Only the Spiritual Power projected by a High-Level Wizard Apprentice could produce such an effect under the Detection Spell.

Hearing him speak, the black-robed man with tattoos all over his face tugged lightly at the corner of his mouth. He suddenly pointed at Ronan, and the Sword and Shield Skeleton that had nearly sent Ronan to his death with one slash immediately received its command and strode toward him.

Without another word, Ronan backed away and roared at the group of gray-robed wizards behind him, who had been frightened senseless by the sudden turn of events and were still standing there dumbly. "What are you standing around for? Run!"

The unlucky wizard who had been cleaved in two by the Sword and Shield Skeleton earlier had not yet fully died. Half his body lay sprawled on the ground as he let out continuous, shrill screams of agony.

The gray-robed wizards snapped out of it as if waking from a dream. With a collective uproar, they instantly fell into chaos and scattered in every direction.

The Sword and Shield Skeleton chasing Ronan also charged swiftly into the crowd. Hearing the screams behind him, Ronan had no energy to spare for them and could only frantically urge Old Wells and the others to flee.

He tried to repeat his earlier tactic, but the instant he picked up Sheryl, every hair on his body stood on end. He hurriedly threw Sheryl aside and rolled forward. Boom!

A dark green sphere of light struck the spot where Ronan had just been standing. It did not make much noise, but the Corrosive Acid it instantly turned into caused a large patch of ground to visibly cave in.

If that had landed on him... Ronan gritted his teeth.

He had seen this spell that released Corrosive Acid in the hands of the previous two black-robed men.

But the same spell was vastly more powerful when cast by a High-Level Apprentice than by an Intermediate Apprentice.

Rising quickly and weaving through the chaotic crowd, Ronan locked eyes with the black-robed man in the distance.

The latter's Spiritual Power had been firmly locked onto him all along. Clearly, escaping with the others as he had before was no longer possible.

"You all go."

Ronan drew a light breath, pulled the One-Handed Sword from his waist, and rapidly muttered the incantation for Charged Weapon.

He ran two fingers along the blade, and brilliant streams of light adhered to it inch by inch.

"I'll hold him off.

"Don't worry about me. Only after you've left will I have a chance to escape."

Leaving those words behind, Ronan strode rapidly toward the black-robed man with an icy expression.

The Sword and Shield Skeleton was slaughtering the scattered wizards with abandon. Countless chants, spell detonations, and screams mingled together in a chaotic mess.

Ronan tried his best not to let the horrific scenes around him affect him, forcing himself to calm down.

He took out the two rings hidden at his waist. The black turquoise ring flashed, and a faint transparent film enveloped Ronan's body.

Intermediate [Protect] Magic Ring.

Ronan raised the other Fireball Magic Ring and flicked his hand. A fireball formed and shot rapidly toward the black-robed man.

Facing such a low-level spell triggered by a magical item, the man remained expressionless and did not even bother to dodge.

Boom!

The fireball Ronan fired exploded more than a meter in front of the black-robed man, blocked by a curtain of black light that only rippled from the scorching impact.

"As expected, he has protective measures."

Ronan stared at the light curtain before the black-robed man. It was clearly far sturdier than the energy shield around Ronan himself, most likely triggered by a high-level zero-rank spell or a magical item.

"Energy Missile at half-step Expert Level perfection is comparable in power to a high-level zero-rank spell. But to be completely certain of breaking a high-level zero-rank spell defense, I'll definitely have to combine it with swordsmanship."

Ronan's mind raced as his eyes flickered, considering his next tactic.

All he could hope for now was that Energy Missile would successfully break through to Expert Level after his next casting. If that happened, he might actually have a chance to turn the tables and kill his opponent.

"Hiss—"

Ronan took a deep breath and slowly began to accelerate.

His physique was pushed to its limits. Every muscle in his body flowed like mercury; his feet pressed into the soft earth, tensed, then exploded with force. Ronan shot out like a sharp arrow, his savage momentum kicking up a long wave of dirt behind him.

Halfway through his charge, a decaying wind howled past his ears.

From the corner of his eye, Ronan caught a cold shadow sweeping toward him. His body instinctively lunged forward. Bang!

A massive rusty blade, still smeared with chunks of blood and flesh, narrowly slashed into the grass behind Ronan. It blasted up a spray of dirt and left a deep trench.

Before Ronan could breathe a sigh of relief, he saw the black-robed man in the distance holding a gray staff topped with a black sphere and chanting at him.

For no reason, Ronan's heart palpitated. His Spiritual Power keenly sensed a large number of energy particles gathering at a spot somewhere in front of him.

He hurriedly glanced over and saw only a corpse that was continuously swelling. Boom!

A violent explosion rang out. Amid the massive cloud of blood mist that erupted in an instant, Ronan charged out with his sword raised.

His robe snapped in the wind, his hair covered in a thin layer of blood, and the light film around his body trembled.

He had thought he had already broken through layer after layer of danger and was about to close in on the black-robed man, but this was only the beginning.

Fresh mangled corpses were drawn toward him by an invisible force. As they swelled like balloons, Sword and Shield Skeletons with faint green flames burning in their eye sockets followed close behind. Ronan was nearly driven to despair.

The urge to flee had never been stronger.

Was this the strength of a Black Robe Wizard, a high-level apprentice skilled in slaughter and combat? This was far too terrifying and difficult to deal with.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

The bloated corpses exploded one after another, scarlet shockwaves whipping up violent winds from the ground. Ronan's figure was swallowed by a sea of blood.

The Sword and Shield Skeleton lying in wait seized the crucial moment of the explosion and viciously swung its blade down at the center of the blood mist. "Ronan!"

Someone cried out his name in alarm.

For an instant, the chaotic battlefield seemed to fall silent.

Many eyes unconsciously turned toward where the blood mist had erupted.

When the wind blew away the vast swathes of red, the scene within finally became clear—

Ronan gripped his sword with both hands and knelt on one knee, desperately resisting the downward pressure of the rotten longsword in the Sword and Shield Skeleton's hand.

His expression was strained. The [Protection] light membrane around him had long since vanished, and his chestnut hair was soaked with either sweat or blood, strands clinging to his forehead.

Crack, crack—

The One-Handed Sword in his hand, covered in flowing light, groaned under the strain. Obvious cracks had appeared along the blade and were rapidly spreading.

Ronan gritted his teeth and fiercely lifted the nearly shattered sword upward.

The instant the sword completely broke apart into a burst of fragmented light, he released it. At the same time, he spat out the syllables of a spell, summoning an enormous blue-black Energy Light Sphere and hurling it at the Sword and Shield Skeleton before him. Boom!

The Energy Light Sphere exploded. Amid the deafening blast, Ronan rode the spreading shockwave backward. The resolute determination and eager fighting spirit he had displayed at the beginning were long gone from his face.

"I'm done. I'm done fighting."

"I'm just a tiny Level Five Apprentice, and a drifter at that. I'd have to be insane to do something this outrageous—to actually dream of challenging a Black Robe Wizard at the level of a high-level apprentice?!"

After several exchanges with the black-robed man, Ronan had been left in a miserable state, narrowly escaping death again and again. He had been thoroughly knocked awake.

Now, all that remained in him was an overwhelming desire to survive.